I specifically broke down when I talked about how when we
visited his grandfather at the hospital, before he was sent home on hospice,
how his grandmother stayed by his side and fed him, spooning ice cream into his
mouth. My eyes were fixated on this scene. They celebrated their 60th
wedding anniversary this year and she not only stuck by and waited for him
while he traveled with his infantry to liberate France, she stayed by him as he
took a year to recover from the wounds he sustained doing it. All these years
later she was beside him again, tending to him, wholly devoted. It was such a
testament to love and commitment, one that will stay with me for the rest of my
life. I can only pray that we are all so fortunate in our relationships. As his
body was wheeled from his house after he passed, she continued to fuss over
him, even stopping the funeral home workers at the door and asking if she could
comb his hair one more time before he left the house forever. Only a great man who
cares for his family and doted on his wife could invoke such adoration. She is
understandably having a difficult time. I'm happy that he's had such a long,
full life, that he was able to see two generations come from his union, that he
was able to see some of his great-grandchildren grow. But my heart hurts for
her and the father, grandfather, and great-grandfather-shaped gap left in the
hearts of so many.
I finished all of my work this morning and am spending my
afternoon ironing black slacks and dresses, pressing toddler-sized white dress
shirts and shining occasion shoes. Ewan was born on the same day that my own
grandfather died. I did not get any closure after his death and it has been a
weight in my heart. My grandfather was buried will full military honors; Chris's
grandfather will be as well. When the guns are fired and Taps is played at the funeral tomorrow it
will take a monumental effort on my part to keep the dam from bursting.


